


I Won't Do That

by Fire_Bear



Series: Hang Cool Teddy Bear [10]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Smut, Zombie Apocalypse, sort of character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-04-03 09:12:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4095280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fire_Bear/pseuds/Fire_Bear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur and Alfred have been together during the zombie apocalypse. But one mistake could mean their downfall...</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Won't Do That

**Author's Note:**

> For the song I Would Do Anything For Love (But I Won't Do That).
> 
> WARNINGS: Just to point out that there's a sort-of character death? Maybe? Also, the characters end up repeating themselves a lot so there's lots of "can't", "won't", "don't" and "please". I couldn't help it - the dialogue flowed that way.

"Shit! Arthur!" cried Alfred.

He didn't bother to answer or chance a glance towards his boyfriend. Arthur was a bit preoccupied in using the fire axe to keep the snapping maw away from him. But the thing was stronger than him and he was beginning to stumble backwards. Growling loudly, Arthur tightened his grip on his weapon and dug in his heels. With all the strength he had, he shoved the creature away. Then, as quickly as he could, he slid both hands to the heel of the axe, swung it back and sliced the zombie's head off its shoulders.

They shouldn't have left the last town. It had been fairly quiet there, eerily peaceful. But, after encountering some survivors who were grouchy and seemed rather opposed to them joining them, they had decided to move on. Staying in one place would lead to disaster, they were sure.

However, as soon as they entered the next town, they realised that the place was inundated with the undead, all of them milling around with nothing to do. At least, they had had nothing to do until they walked in. Now, they were in the midst of a long, drawn-out battle, swarmed by zombies. So far, they had managed to dispatch most of them and outrun the others but these ones were somehow stronger and the ones they had left behind were catching up.

Turning from the now still creature, Arthur noted the two zombies Alfred was struggling with. He was alternating between them, pushing them away with his bloodied bat but didn't have enough time to swing at their heads. It didn't help that he kept looking over his shoulder at Arthur. Quickly, Arthur made his way over. How had they managed to get so far from each other? He raised his axe and let his feet pound on the tarmac.

Arthur wasn't quick enough.

As he got within a few feet, one of the zombies didn't stumble back far enough, lunging at Alfred at the same time as the other. Alfred struggled. There was a painful scream. A ripping sound. And the slicing sound as Arthur finally reached him and took off a zombie's head. Alfred was quick to push the other away and whack it with the bat.

"Are you all right?" Arthur panted, wide-eyed.

Alfred shook his head. "No," he gasped. "I got bit." With that, he raised his arm to reveal the huge hole in his arm, the blood dripping onto the road. Arthur stared at it in horror: he was going to be sick. God, they should definitely have stayed in the last town.

"Oh, God, Al..." he breathed, reaching towards him.

"No!" snapped Alfred, pulling away from him. Arthur could feel his heart beginning to crack as he stared back at Alfred's miserable expression. "No, you can't..." Alfred continued, looking back the way they had come. The things were getting closer. "You need to leave. You need to go. Now!"

"What? No. Al, I'm not leaving you!"

"I thought you'd said you'd do anything for me," Alfred growled. "Was that a lie?"

"It-It wasn't but... I'm not going to just _leave_ you here. You're still alive. We could- Maybe there's a-"

"A cure? Don't be stupid, Arthur." Alfred sighed and seemed to be resigned. With sad, blue eyes, he gazed at Arthur. "You're going to survive, Artie. But I need to distract these guys. So. Please. _Go_."

Clenching his jaw, Arthur shook his head and grabbed Alfred's injured arm. "I don't care what you say. We're getting out of this. Together. Just like always."

" _Arthur_." Alfred's tone was a warning but Arthur ignored it.

Without another word, Arthur glanced around and noticed a wide alley. The setting sun's last rays was pouring into and he could see a dumpster and the road behind the other buildings. He started for it, pulling Alfred along. His eyes darted around, making sure there was nothing around to kill them.

As they entered the alleyway, Arthur spotted a fire escape that ran down the side of one of the buildings. A raised ladder was available to connect the metal stairway to the ground and Arthur steered Alfred towards it. "Quick! We can make do in an apartment for now!"

Alfred protested. "You shouldn't be in an enclosed space with me-"

"Shut up, Al," snapped Arthur, reaching up and pulling the ladder down the last few feet. It fell with a loud clatter and both men winced. "Okay, you go first."

"What? No, you shou-"

"Al, you're injured. If you slip and fall, I'll catch you so get your arse up there!" Not waiting for more protests, Arthur pushed Alfred into the ladder and began shoving at him, trying to lift him off the ground. Then the weight of his boyfriend disappeared as the other climbed as fast as he could. Arthur kept watch, clutching at his axe.

"Artie. Get up here!"

Glancing up, Arthur could see that Alfred was successfully on the first landing. Abandoning his post, Arthur began to climb, slipping a little on the rungs which had blood on them. He tried not to think about it. Just as he reached the top, movement from the end of the alley caught his attention and he watched as one of the faster zombies rushed towards him.

"Fuck!" Alfred said above him. "C'mon, Arthur!"

With Alfred's help, Arthur was pulled off the ladder just as the zombie hit it. Other, slower zombies appeared, too, ambling towards them with their constant groaning. The one beneath them snarled and reached towards them.

"Pull it up!" gasped Arthur. Alfred was quick to obey and they both watched as the confused zombie fell forward when its support was gone. It was on its feet in seconds, though, watching them as it reached for its food.

"Up top?" Alfred asked.

"Yeah." They made their way up, wincing at every rattle and clatter. At one point, they nearly fell over the railing when a trapped zombie rammed against a window. It was enough to have them running upwards. Finally, they reached the topmost apartment and found the window, luckily, had been left open. Alfred insisted on going first and Arthur let him; he was quick to follow. They shut it firmly and looked at each other, taking deep breaths.

But they couldn't rest for long and they both knew it. Without speaking, they both dropped their rucksacks and moved off in opposite directions. As Arthur blocked the window as much as possible, Alfred searched the place. He returned shortly afterwards, bringing tinned food, matches and bottles of water. Then he shut the room door and pushed a bookcase in front of it, followed by a chair. The only things they didn't move were the double bed and the wardrobe which were much too heavy and awkward to shift.

Finished with their tasks, Arthur and Alfred collapsed on the bed, catching their breath. A few moments of silence passed – within which they were sure they could hear groaning from below – before Arthur spoke up. "Let me bandage that wound."

"It's not going to do anything. What's the point?" answered Alfred with a shrug. "In fact, while we're on the subject, why the hell didja bring me along? I'm gonna turn into one of those things-"

" _Please_ , Alfred," said Arthur, sitting up to look down at him with pained eyes. "I can't- Just..." He sighed. "You're still alive. I can't leave you alone knowing you'll be ripped apart."

Alfred bit his lip before sighing. "All right. But..." He sat up suddenly and went to his bag, opening it and rummaging around. When he turned back to a confused Arthur, he was holding a gun. Expertly, Alfred slid the ammo out, checked it over, and loaded it again. "You should take this."

"Wha-? Where did you-?"

"Snatched it from that blond with all the guns back in the last town."

"Why didn't you _use it_!"

Shrugging, Alfred walked over to the bed and stopped in front of Arthur. "I didn't want to draw them to us. Guns make a lot of noise, y'know. And then I was a bit preoccupied keeping them off me. Not that _that_ did a lot of good, huh?" He raised his arm. "Anyways, here." Holding the gun out to Arthur, he looked at him expectantly.

"'Here', what?" asked Arthur, frowning.

"I'm giving it to you." Alfred pressed the gun into one of Arthur's hands. "Take it. You'll need it. And you need to use it to kill me. Do it now, before I turn."

Arthur's eyes widened and he shook his head frantically. "No! No, I can't!" He pulled the gun from Alfred's grasp and threw it across the room. The thud and clatter as it slid to a stop echoed. They paused, listening for dangers. After a moment, Arthur whispered, "I can't, Alfred. I won't."

"You _have_ to, Art." Alfred's eyes were pleading with Arthur, large and sad – usually he couldn't resist but it was surprisingly easy to do so now. "Please, Arthur. I don't want to hurt you."

"I'm not _killing_ you, Alfred."

"I'm already as good as dead," Alfred growled.

"But you're not dead yet!" snapped Arthur. "I _won't_ be the one to kill you. I refuse. I won't- I can't-" Suddenly, he sobbed, catching both of them by surprise. Arthur hadn't been aware that his eyes had filled with tears but now they were falling. Not wanting Alfred to see him crying in his last moments, Arthur covered his face.

It took a few heartbeats before Alfred was pulling his wet hands away. Arthur found himself looking into Alfred's shining eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't want-" Alfred sighed, dropping to a crouch before him. "Look. You don't need to kill me now. We've got twenty-four hours."

"Maybe-"

"We have twenty-four hours," Alfred repeated, firmly. "And then I'll turn. Once I've turned, you need to get out of here. Get out of this town, go back to the last one. You'll be safe there."

"But I can't just-"

"You can and you will, Arthur. For me. Please."

"I..." Arthur stared at Alfred's abnormally serious face. How could he say no to one of his last requests? "All right. But when we find a cure, I'll come back and-!"

"No." Alfred reached up and gripped Arthur's arms tightly. "No, you can't. You won't. Because, when I turn, you need to kill me. Just like we had to kill... others."

That was something Arthur couldn't promise. "No. No, no, no! I- Please, Al, don't-!"

"Arthur! Please. I love you but I'll try to hurt you once I turn. So you need to kill me. You need to save yourself and live. For me. For- Just, _please_. Please. Tell me you'll do it."

He was crying again; he couldn't stop himself. Shaking his head, Arthur muttered protests and begging until, finally, he had his forehead pressed against Alfred's. "F-Fine. I'll... I'll do it."

Arms pulled him closer in a tight hug. "Thanks, babe. I love you."

"I-I love you, too," Arthur replied in a small voice, throwing his arms around Alfred.

They stayed like that for quite some time.

* * *

A few hours had passed and the sun was beginning to set before they moved from their cuddling session. Alfred drew out the battery-powered lanterns and other lights so they could see what they were doing whilst Arthur found the tin opener and investigated the food. They had managed to secure themselves some beans, vegetable soup, tinned tomatoes, chicken curry and SpaghettiOs Sliced Franks.

After a brief moment of indecision, Arthur decided on opening the soup and the SpaghettiOs as they only had two camping cookers. They could easily split both of them in half, if Alfred wanted any of the soup, but that would come later. He rummaged in their bags and dug out the cookers, setting them up and pulling out collapsible pots they had picked up along the way. Once he had gotten them lit, he opened the tins and set everything up. When he had finished, he looked around to find Alfred watching him with a fond smile.

"What?" he asked, frowning at him.

"Nothing. Just... You're going to be fine." Alfred's lips twitched a little as he tried to keep up the smile.

"Shut up." Arthur yawned and stretched. "Once we've eaten, let me take care of that-"

"No, forget about it. I just wanna... be with you. Forget about it and everything else for a while, all right?" Alfred's serious face made Arthur nod in agreement. "Anyways, should you really be the one cooking?"

Arthur scowled at that. "I'm only heating it up! And I'm following the instructions, you git!"

Alfred's laugh – which could be loud and horrible – was music to Arthur's ears. His scowl turned to a smile and he shook his head at him. They lapsed into silence quickly, aware of what was coming. Alfred approached, rather gingerly, and settled himself beside Arthur. Quietly, he snaked his arms around Arthur's waist and Arthur leaned into his shoulder.

"It shouldn't be too long," Arthur murmured, sighing.

"Sure it isn't done by now?" teased Alfred.

"I just put it on!"

Again, Alfred chuckled. "Sorry," he said and pecked Arthur on the head.

Rolling his eyes, Arthur picked up the spoon and nudged the food around the pots. "What do you want? Soup or spaghetti. O's," he added as he remembered the last time he had merely called them pasta. Alfred had been up in arms that he hadn't specified and they'd ended up in an argument.

"What kinda soup?"

"Vegetable."

"Ew, nah. SpaghettiOs for me, please."

The rest of the cooking time passed in silence. When it was ready, Arthur fetched their collapsible bowls and dished the two lots up. Making sure the cookers were switched off, Arthur began to eat. The soup was unappetising and he was tempted to forego it but he knew that he needed energy.

Just as he was finishing off, Alfred's hand appeared, unannounced, and took his bowl. Shocked, he dropped the spoon and looked at Alfred, puzzled. "What?" he asked as he watched Alfred put their bowls out of the way.

"Nothing," Alfred replied, turning back to Arthur and gently cupping his face. Without warning, he leant forward and pressed his lips to Arthur's in a chaste kiss. Arthur kissed back, feeling more nervous than their first time. Could this be their last?

When they pulled back, Arthur could see the lust in Alfred's eyes. Wordlessly, the American stood and pulled Arthur up with him. His hands went to Arthur's hips while Arthur looped his arms around Alfred's neck. Alfred kissed him a little more urgently, his tongue licking at Arthur's lips until Arthur let him in. Slowly, their tongues moved against each other's, a lazy and affectionate kiss.

Then they pulled back and Alfred gently pushed Arthur down onto the bed, following him immediately. Knowing where this was going, Arthur grimaced. "Al, I don't think-"

"We haven't had sex in ages," Alfred interjected, frowning at his boyfriend. "And this'll be my last night. So, please – let me make love to you."

Arthur couldn't say no to that. He pulled Alfred down into another kiss, this one just as slow as the last. It didn't stay slow, however, and they were soon nibbling and biting at lips. They broke away for air and Alfred kissed at Arthur's jaw as the Brit desperately tried to remove Alfred's jacket and shirt. Hands ran down Arthur's chest and gave him the same treatment.

Their trousers were next, along with their boots and, in no time at all, they were both naked and panting, kissing each other along their bodies. "Beautiful," Alfred murmured into Arthur's ear at one point before he nibbled at the lobe. Arthur managed to do something between a moan and a chuckle.

Slowly, teasingly, Alfred began to kiss his way down Arthur's chest. He took a detour to one of his nipples to suck and bite at it. Arthur groaned at that, arching a little. Alfred laughed, gave it a final lick and went on his way. By the time he reached his navel, Arthur was already a mess. It really had been too long.

"A-Al," he panted. "Al, I- Damn. Hurry."

"Yeah, yeah. I need to find the lube. You'll need to hang on for me."

Glaring at Alfred's smirk, Arthur said, "Why the hell didn't you get it out before you started?"

Alfred's smirk grew wider. "Well, I hadn't exactly planned on this." And then he took Arthur's cock into his mouth and sucked, hard. Arthur cried out and bucked his hips a little. All too soon, however, Alfred was gone and Arthur looked for him in a daze. He spotted him at his bag, fishing around in a pocket. In no time at all, he was hurrying back, his erection clear to see. "No condoms, though," he said, frowning down at Arthur, suddenly hesitant.

"Does it _really_ matter at this point?"

"What if... _this_... is transferred by... y'know." Alfred waved his arms, making vague gestures which seemed rather comical.

Sighing, Arthur propped himself up by his elbows. "It's transferred in saliva, right? That's why people get it when they're bitten. Would you just stop worrying and fuck me already?!"

"Huh," Alfred said, nodding slowly. "Yeah, okay." He flipped open the top and squeezed a liberal amount of lube on his fingers. When he deemed the lube warm enough, he leaned over and Arthur instinctively spread his legs.

A finger circled Arthur's entrance and he held his breath, biting at his lip. Then, slowly, Alfred pushed it in. Arthur groaned as it went in. Alfred went through the same motions as normal, thrusting his finger in and out, curling it every so often until he deemed Arthur loose enough to insert another one and a third. Arthur merely lost himself in the sensations, gripping at the messy bedsheets and moaning wantonly. Soon, though, it wasn't enough and he began to writhe and move against Alfred, practically begging for more.

"Man," breathed Alfred as he removed his fingers. Arthur held back a whimper as he looked up at his lover. He was flushed, his eyes dark with lust behind his broken glasses. The stunned expression reminded Arthur of their first time, reminded him of their journey to get to this relationship and how many obstacles they'd faced. Then Alfred grinned and Arthur was aware of him lining up. "You look amazing," Alfred added just before he thrust in.

Gasping, Arthur arched off the bed, his hands scrabbling for purchase. "Al!" he managed to cry, breathless. Slowly, he relaxed, Alfred panting above him. When he was in full contact with the bed, he took a deep breath and nodded. Alfred wasted no time in pulling out and slamming back in. Arthur cried out and, annoyed at himself for being so noisy, he reached up and pulled Alfred into a deep kiss.

Their pace grew frenzied after that, fully aware of their time limit though neither wished to acknowledge it. They lost themselves in the noises of slapping flesh, the smell of sex, the sight of the other in the throes of passion and the feel of being with their loved one. It didn't take long and yet it did as they lost track of time and the world around them. Even the distant groans of the hungry undead didn't reach them. Suddenly, Alfred gave a cry and Arthur could feel his release inside of him. With a gasp, Arthur followed as Alfred slammed into him one more time and brushed against his prostate.

Alfred collapsed on top of Arthur, something he was used to. He waited a while before pushing Alfred onto his side so he could breathe. The American wasted no time in drawing Arthur closer, curling around him. Kisses were peppered across Arthur's face till he laughed and pushed Alfred's face away.

"Stop. We need to-"

"We need to cuddle, is what we need to do," said Alfred. Then, without warning, he leaned over and kissed Arthur's neck. A bite, a suck, a lick later, and he moved back again. "There. Had to leave you a present."

" _Al_!" growled Arthur, glaring at him. He didn't appreciate the reminder.

Grimacing, Alfred drew him closer. "Sorry, Art. Sorry for everything."

"Everything?"

"Yeah. Every stupid fight or insult or whatever I did to make you feel bad. I love you and I shouldn't 'ave done that. And I'm real sorry about this." He looked up into Arthur's gaze, his eyes shining with his tears.

"Idiot," Arthur sighed. He looped his arms around him. "Stop. We're not saying goodbye just yet. We've got a few hours. Let's sleep and when morning comes..." He wasn't sure what he was going to do when morning came. There was no way he would be ready to leave Alfred.

And he certainly wouldn't be ready to shoot him, no matter what state his boyfriend was in.

"Okay," agreed Alfred. "We'll talk then. But I love you."

"Love you, too, silly."

* * *

They had fallen asleep with their arms around each other and that was how Arthur found himself when he woke a few hours later. Groaning, he rolled over and away from Alfred, stretching out the kinks from the awkward position. They usually slept with Arthur's back to Alfred but he couldn't bear to turn away from him that night. Standing, he moved over to the window, ignoring the stickiness on his stomach and between his legs. From the slight gap between the piled furniture and the edge of it, Arthur could see that the sun had barely risen and the zombies had disappeared.

Returning to his bag, he searched for a knife. Then he turned to the curtains and cut a swathe from it. Using the bottled water, he soaked it and used it as a wet cloth to clean himself. Finally, he pulled on his spare clothes: a pair of combat trousers, a dark sweater and a pair of boots. He decided that this was as ready as he was going to be to face the day.

As he repacked his bag, he heard shuffling from the bed. "Oh, you're up," he said, not turning around. He wasn't sure he could face him. "I'm just tidying up a bit. I'll come back to-" There was a thud and Arthur jolted to his feet, alarmed. Turning, he saw Alfred in a pile on the floor. Chuckling, he took a step forward. "Did you fall out of-?"

And then Alfred began to raise himself to his feet. It was slow and awkward, as if he didn't know what to do with his limbs. His feet slid across the carpet, back and forth, till he got them under him. Then, slowly, he began to unfold himself.

Arthur had only ever seen certain people get up from a fall in that manner.

"No. No, it can't- It's not been twenty-four hours," he whispered, transfixed as he watched the thing that used to be his boyfriend stand straight for a moment. Its unseeing eyes were dull behind the dirty and cracked lenses. They bored into Arthur for a moment before it slumped.

It moaned. It raised its arms. It began to shuffle forwards, still unused to its limbs.

Backing away, Arthur shook his head. "No. Please. Al, it's me." Before he could say anything else, he tripped over his bag and landed, hard, sprawled over their belongings. A panicked and pained sob escaped him as Alfred kept coming. He scrambled to his feet and tried again. "Al, this is _not_ funny. Stop it. _Please_."

Alfred merely groaned, getting closer. Arthur backed up more and the thing – _Alfred_ – reached his bag. It tripped and fell, hard enough to snap a wrist. Darting away, Arthur tried to keep himself from crying, biting his lip hard to keep in sobs.

Suddenly, he stood on something hard. He yelped and jumped away, glancing down. It was Alfred's gun. He stared at it, remembering what Alfred had said. Looking over at Alfred, he watched him – _it_ – struggling to get up, its arms and legs flailing.

What was he supposed to do? If he left Alfred behind and simply left, someone else could kill him. Or he could hurt someone and Arthur knew he wouldn't want that. And what if there was a cure? Arthur didn't think he would be able to live with himself if he killed Alfred and he could be saved in the future. In fact, could he live without Alfred at all?

Then again, did people know that the virus was progressing? That it was getting faster? Were there people out there trying to spend a final few hours with their loved ones and getting brutally torn apart? Should he try to warn them?

During his time of indecision, Alfred had gotten to his feet and was coming for him again. Arthur stared at him, pleading with his eyes. Alfred showed no recognition and Arthur began to slowly realise that he was really gone. He could remember Alfred's eyes lighting up when he spotted him across a room, the way he bounded over to him and pestered him, the way he hugged him and enveloped him in love, the way he kissed him.

The zombie moaned, shuffling closer. Arthur noticed it was getting faster. Were all the zombies getting quicker? Was that how they had been ambushed? Did this spell the end for all of them?

Arthur didn't think he could take much more of this. The losses both he and Alfred had suffered were devastating enough but Alfred had been the one to pull him through it, just as he had helped Alfred, too. He watched the zombie getting closer and he knew that he had to make a decision.

Jerkily, he crouched and scooped up the pistol. Then he straightened, facing his lover. The creature had stopped moving at the sudden movement. When nothing more happened, though, it moaned again and wobbled forwards, its wrist limp as it reached for Arthur.

"I'm so sorry, Al," Arthur breathed.

Then he cocked the gun, raised his arm, pulled the trigger and-

**Author's Note:**

> Does saying "I'm sorry" make up for this? But, yeah, it's deliberately ended like that.
> 
> I actually looked up SpaghettiOs, by the way. Well, I mean, I looked up the American equivalent of spaghetti hoops - stupidly, because I've heard of SpaghettiOs from films and TV. Never knew there were variants, though. Not sure if America has tinned chicken curry but the people living in that flat totally have it.
> 
> I decided to kind of take a few different zombie attributes and put them all in the one universe. Like, you get the slow, shuffling ones. And you get the fast ones like 28 Days Later. ... Actually, that's it. (What you turn into depends on each person. DNA and stuff. But they all start off awkward and shuffling.)
> 
> I would like to say that the next one-shot is happier - but I can't. ^^" Meatloaf's songs are all sex or really depressed stuff.


End file.
